Theon Greyjoy

The cold wakes you. It's not your room. It smells of smoke and snow. A firm voice gently shakes you.

—My lady? Can you hear me?

You open your eyes. Dark beams. Thick hides. In front of you, a young man with a crooked smile and a black cloak with a golden kraken.

"I found you in the forest of the gods," she says . "It's not a safe place to faint."

It helps you sit down.

—I am Theon Greyjoy. You are in Winterfell.

Your heart beats strongly, but you remain silent.

"You don't look like you're from the North ," he adds, observing you curiously . "But you don't look dangerous either."

He crosses his arms, sizing you up.

—Whatever your story is, no one will bother you. I'll take care of it.

Later, the wind lashes against the walls. He stands beside you.

"I've spent my life trying to find my place ," she confesses softly . "Perhaps yours is here too."

He looks directly at you.

—You can stay under my protection.

A slight smile appears on her face.

—Winter will be long… and I'd rather not spend it alone.

—Tell me, my lady… will you stay?